


Mending

by thesometimeswarrior



Series: Learning Partners [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Episode: s01e18 The Waterbending Master, Ficlet, Missing Scene, Northern Water Tribe, Regret, making amends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 19:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: It’s a private ritual, these nightly meanderings, but one that’s no less meaningful than the public offerings to the Spirits or spectacular feats of Waterbending. Each step is an act of singing out in gratitude; each step reinforces his connection to the home from which he is built.Tonight, however, he feels less grounded, and his restlessness has nothing (or, perhaps, everything) to do with his customs.Kanna’s alive.The night after learning the truth, Pakku seeks out Katara.
Relationships: Kanna/Pakku (Avatar), Katara & Pakku (Avatar)
Series: Learning Partners [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189625
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	Mending

**Author's Note:**

> (In which the author is probably projecting some ideas of feeling excluded and at other times deeply connected to specific spiritual traditions, and the cultures they embody.)

By the time he finds himself at the door of the dwelling, the moon is already looming high in the air, casting a silver glow that catches in the ice and snow that compose his home and radiating off it. Though the canals and bridges sit more or less empty while their daytime inhabitants sleep, it has always been clear to Pakku that it is this time of day when the city shines at its most magnificent: when the Spirits who always watch over them show themselves most apparently, and their whole civilization seems to glimmer in their attention. 

He often finds himself awake at this hour. Tui’s blessing pulses through his veins more strongly to lend him power, and occasionally he will take advantage of that, train in a particularly demanding technique. More often, though, he will simply wander—feel the moonlight on his skin, listen to the waves crash around him as a constant reminder of La’s presence. It’s a private ritual, these nightly meanderings, but one that’s no less meaningful than the public offerings to the Spirits or spectacular feats of Waterbending. Each step is an act of singing out in gratitude; each step reinforces his connection to the home from which he is built.

Tonight, however, he feels less grounded, and his restlessness has nothing (or, perhaps, everything) to do with his customs.

_Kanna’s alive._

Kanna has been alive for these past sixty years, has lived a whole life—children, _grandchildren_ —on the other side of the Earth.

It’s a tremendous _relief_ , yes, of course it is, after these long decades of assuming that she was lost at sea, of the grief that brought him, even if it’s been so long since he consciously swam in that grief.

But it’s also like sea salt in an old wound, one that he thought scabbed over long ago. 

He’d _loved_ Kanna.

Kanna was _gone_.

Kanna was torn from her _home_ , from the Spirits who watched over and composed it.

Or...

(The snow shifts under his feet, the ground uneven. For an instant, Pakku feels that he will slip.)

Kanna _tore herself_ from her home, from their Spirits.

Had she _ever_ felt them, as he has? Did she ever truly feel a part of this place she was born? _Was_ it her home?

How badly did they—did _he_ —fail her, that she felt the need to _excise_ herself from everything to which she was connected—that was connected to her—in order to survive?

He finally raps on the door before him.

For a moment, there is no response. Then, there is the sound of movement from within, a figure appears at the window, a hushed din of voices, then the door opens, revealing the girl, Kanna’s granddaughter, bleary-eyed and blinking, voice raspy with sleep. “Master Pakku?” 

Pakku’s tongue goes heavy. 

When he tries to ask: _Was she happy?_ —he finds his lips are frozen.

The girl furrows her eyebrows. She’s so young, he thinks. So eager. The moonlight illuminates her hair, her eyes.

She looks like her grandmother had, so long ago, before she’d realized that, in their hurry to gaze at the ocean, and the moon, and the snow, and the work of their own hands, her people hadn’t made room for her among them.

And it’s not enough, two generations too late, but Pakku won’t repeat that mistake with her granddaughter. 

“Alright,” he hears himself rasp, at last. “I’ll teach you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I love comments!


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